


and now for something completely different

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, F/M, Rimming, Soulless Sam Winchester, Vessel Consent Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Castiel in Claire's body gets really curious about sex. Soullness!Sam is more than happy to help her. I want him to dominate her and get really nasty. Analingus, light slap on her ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and now for something completely different

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=4533081#t4533081).
> 
> I didn't exactly do the "really curious about sex" part because that didn't jive exactly with how I see Castiel, but nonetheless, I love Sam/Castiel so I had fun trying it out.

"This vessel feels different," Castiel says.

"It is different," Sam says, staring at his laptop, where he's compiling the last few days' worth of research into different patterns, trying to catch something. He's aware of the difference, too, at least somewhat, because Dean is obviously not on board with this vessel switch. They haven't gotten two separate motel rooms since... ever. 

_You two go... not sleep somewhere else. I wanna get in a night where nobody's staring at me the whole friggin' time,_ he'd said, and kicked the tire.

 _No one stares at you. Narcissist_ , Sam had said. _Fine, but it's on your card, not mine._

"I'm closer to the ground."

"You're a little girl."

"I feel my hair on my back." Castiel is staring at him. "It tickles."

Is Sam supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? This is Castiel, he remembers, not Dean. Castiel technically has less people skills than him.

"So cut it off," says Sam.

"What if it serves some kind of purpose?" Cas responds.

All Sam can do is shake his head.

Between the two of them, time slips by. Neither of them need to sleep, and Sam doesn't really feel the need to converse or exclaim or complain about what body Cas is in. If he ever cared about Jimmy, he can't remember that feeling now, and the same goes for the daughter, Claire, whose meatsuit Castiel had angel-whispered his way into when Jimmy's was broken beyond repair. He really doesn't notice much of a difference other than the lack of a trenchcoat. Maybe if Sam buys Cas's new vessel one, Dean will stop looking so... big-eyed. Sam can't really tell what he's feeling or thinking. He knows Dean better than anybody in the world, but Dean's so all-over-the-place these days, Sam can't pinpoint what the hell he's feeling on a daily basis. All he can do is hazard random guesses that are wrong half the time.

Whatever.

An hour or so later, Castiel stands and walks jerkily around the room, his new vessel's long blond hair wafting behind her.

"Everything is different," she finally says, heavy-voiced and passive-faced and impossible to read. "My center of gravity has changed. My hands are tiny. My... breasts... are strapped down to my chest by this... thing."

"It's called a bra," says Sam, vaguely amused. "Come on, Cas."

"Is it? I've never felt one _on me_ before. It's..."

"Different," Sam slots in.

"Do I have to wear it?"

"Since when do you care what you wear? You wore the same suit and tie every day for two years."

"It's a new vessel. I'm used to feeling certain things, like a tie around my neck. I'm... not used to this, and it's very itchy."

Sam is renaming files when Castiel ditches Claire's blouse, the careless movement catching his attention. He's like a machine, now, so he doesn't care that the skin Cas is wearing is all of fourteen. He sees a pale waist and a snow-white training bra and responds as any male animal would, getting a glimpse of a potential mate. He stills, eyes sharp, and watches Cas slowly rotate in Claire's body and fumble with arms he's not skilled at puppeteering yet as if chasing his own tail, trying to get to the clasp on the back of the bra. He spots a tag poking out from beneath it, strands of cornsilk-colored hair brushing over it.

"There's a tag on your back. That's what tickles," he says.

The charade goes on for another long minute, with Castiel's prim shoulder blades squirming and her hands -- tiny, yes -- clawing at the tag, trying and failing to unhook the entire thing.

"I can't get it," she finally states.

"Use your angel powers."

She stops still, all round empty eyes, not seeming to notice the show she's putting on for Sam. A moment later, there's a tiny click that's audible in the relative silence of the room and the back of the bra falls open neatly. She's pulling it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the eye-numbing brown carpet before it occurs to Sam he probably ought to stop her. Him. Whatever. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

"That's better. I seem to be... ticklish," remarks Castiel.

"I could scratch your back," leers Sam. He knows just a tiny bit that Dean would not approve of any of this, but frankly, he couldn't care less.

"You're... looking at my body," says Castiel.

"You're taking your clothes off," he returns.

"Is that inappropriate? I was given to understand that you don't care about anything."

"I don't. But I could still fuck the shit out of your vessel right now."

Castiel's tractor beam locks on him, or so it seems, from the way she doesn't blink. At least Sam still blinks and pisses and responds to stimuli, and could probably pass for normal if he really tried. Cas is hopeless.

"You find this desirable," Castiel repeats, Sam's sentiment coming out in that stunted babelfish translation-speak, and stares down at herself if there's something she missed. So like a girl, Sam muses carelessly.

"Probably not Sammy," he says, tilting his head and giving Cas several up-and-downs. "He'd probably be covering you up with the shirt off his back. I see those little tits and I just wanna bite 'em."

Moving slowly, like a true predator stalking its prey, Sam stands, abandoning his laptop and drawing closer to her. He's idly curious about how far he can push Castiel before he -- she -- gets mad and disappears.

"I... you, uh. You're a lot taller than I remember," Castiel mutters.

"Yeah, I bet. You've got a tiny little vessel, there, Cas. I like it, though."

"Sam," she says shortly. "If you're having impure thoughts... then I must confess, I'm having many right now as well."

"Really," Sam hums. "Tell me about them."

"I keep thinking about you touching me, in this form. It's very sensitive... its skin... strains. I can feel your body heat from here, and you keep coming closer. I'm thinking about kissing you, like Meg, only -- your muscles are alarming, and I'm not used to seeing you from this far down. It's very confusing."

She stops awkwardly, staring up and up and up at Sam as he closes the gap between them.

"How about your little girl pussy?" he asks, enjoying the confusion passing over her features briefly before reaching down and sliding his hand up her thigh. It's slim, like he could fit his whole hand around it if he tried, and warm but goosebumpy under her skirt. Even as he cups her roughly through her panties, he can feel heat radiating like a fucking beacon of what might be eternal centuries of shoved down, pushed away, untapped feelings and curiosities. "How's that feel?"

"Like - a hot - shiver," Castiel manages shakily. "Even without your soul, your hand is so warm."

"All that dirty demon blood pumping through my veins," Sam says coolly, and strikes fast like an alligator, snapping Castiel's vessel up into his arms and throwing it bodily onto the mattress. Her blond hair floats and scatters, bouncing along with her, and her hips writhe awkwardly of their own accord. But it's her arms that Sam pins down as he climbs onto her, catching both in the grip of one hand strong enough to bruise such delicate limbs and pinning them above her head. His hair falls over his forehead and brushes across the vessel's as he breathes in her face. "But I think your little pussy's all wet for abominations like me."

"My pussy," Castiel repeats curiously. Coming out the flushed mouth of a little girl, the words actually make Sam's cock stir with vigorous interest, a feeling that's palpable and good, soul or no.

"Yeah. You know what that is, don't you, Cas? You know I'm not talking about a cat. You know I'm talking about _this_." He lets his fingers push Claire's skirt up, the backs of his knuckles swiping over the crotch of her panties. Castiel grunts, looking bewildered, but he doesn't whisk away into thin air. He stays there underneath Sam and spreads Claire's legs for him, probably not even understanding the instinct coded so deep in the vessel's human DNA. It just spurs Sam on.

He thumbs at her through her panties, rubbing circles until he finds her clit, makes her give a short, involuntary cry.

"C'mon, Cas," Sam demands. "You know you like this. I feel that vessel of yours, how wet she is. If you were riding a dude, you'd be boned up for me now. Remember what that feels like? How your dick got all hard when you were watching porn? It means you're ready for sex."

"It feels strange," she mutters.

"You're gonna come for me if I keep on doing this. Look. You're moving your hips for it. Your fucking thighs are shaking, Cas. You're not even in control of it," he gloats, and man, it's a power trip, knowing he's got an angel of the Lord on the brink just like that. Claire's china doll face is red like she's wind-whipped; she's all sandy eyelashes fluttering, small clumsy hungry moans, underdeveloped tits standing pointy and untouched. Sam lunges in at a nipple, taking it in for a rough pull of a suck, sullying that pure flesh, and Claire's body comes for him, her hips twisting up at Sam's thumb. It's probably Claire's body's first time (or hey, maybe it isn't) and it's definitely Castiel's, but that doesn't keep Sam from jamming the button. He works that little clit harshly, panties starting to smear with her juices, keeps going and going, working on some strange determination that's a familiar pathway in his brain. He doesn't care if it's too much, as long as a scream out of Claire's throat doesn't wake Dean up or something.

"You came, Cas," he says when he finally wrings her out. "Big time. Maybe twice, or maybe not. Guess what I'm gonna do now?"

She just gapes; maybe she's got Jimmy's eyes or something, but Sam can see Castiel in there, speechless. He doesn't give Cas a second to say something dumb. He flips her onto her stomach, her body limp like a rag doll from that wringing come she had, liking her butt all lush up in the air for him. Claire barely has hips yet. It's not really the body she's gonna have in another four years. But her skin's downy-soft and there are red marks where her panties were gripping the flesh of her ass while Castiel tried to ride his touch like a whore, and it's cute and just round enough. He jerks her panties down past her knees. That's all he really needs, right?

Her pussy's gorgeous. Maybe because it's so young, but maybe it's the fact that it's crowned with wispy fair hair that looks like a halo around the split of pink. Come is shining in her folds, on the insides of her thighs, glinting.

"That's a sweet little pussy, Cas," he comments. "It looks good on you. And your other hole's cute, too."

Out of nowhere, he lands a smack on one ass cheek, making her hips jump and Castiel let out a blunt, satsifying noise into the mattress.

"Yeah, I'd love to fuck both these holes," Sam says, gripping her by the thighs and tugging her ass higher up into the air. He's so tall that even going to his knees beside the bed isn't getting him down low enough, but no problem -- this is better anyway. He gets a whiff of her pussy, so sweet and innocent, and licks his way to her clit to play with it, his tongue rolling back and forth over it until Castiel's moaning for him and rocking slightly.

And normally, although Sam has found that he doesn't exactly have boundaries these days, most of the women he's taken to bed and fucked have... so he realizes Castiel doesn't. He doesn't have any sense of what's normal or not.

And that's even better than permission, really.

Sam licks his way to his vessel's tiny little asshole, feeling her hips squirm at the new place he's touching, and moans, just because. It tastes different here, musky and dirty-sweet, and her hole flinches shut tight then slowly stops resisting.

With effort, Castiel moans, "You're making me seriously think about sodomy."

Sam rewards her with a slap on the ass. "Good girl."


End file.
